


Death In Your Hand

by Nununununu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Burning the world for your lover, Burning the world with your ambition, Dark Fantasy, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: The neighbouring kingdom had instructed Bellinor to kill Adrastos. Instead Bellinor had looked at Adrastos – young and golden bright, afire with the determination to extend his rule throughout the known world and beyond – and had made a different choice.
Relationships: King/His new male concubine who is secretly an assassin, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: It's All in the Name (Take #1)





	Death In Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ruis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruis/gifts).



> For Ruis. I hope you like this take on your prompt :)

The vast expanse of sky is devoid of moon up above, while the hearths of the kingdom spread out below him have burned down hours before. Adrastos, with the weight of fine-wrought red-gold briars heavy and still unfamiliar on his brow, waits at the topmost window of the tower for his lover.

When the neighbouring kingdom to the east had presented the new king with Bellinor as a coronation gift, they had expected him to insinuate himself into Adrastos’ bed with a knife.

It is true Bellinor makes the most exquisite of concubines, as talented at sex as he is at the many forms of assassination. With his sleek dark hair, close cropped beard and smooth gilt skin, his long limbs and clever hands had captured Adrastos’ attention at once. But it had been the look in Bellinor’s eyes – unabashed, full of darkness and _want_ – that had alerted him to the fact that he was looking at no mere new addition to his harem.

The neighbouring kingdom had instructed Bellinor to kill Adrastos. Instead Bellinor had looked at Adrastos – young and golden bright, afire with the determination to extend his rule throughout the known world and beyond – and had made a different choice.

“Your majesty,” Bellinor slips now over the sill and into the room at the very top of the tower, dropping to his knees as Adrastos’ feet. He makes as little noise as a ghost.

“My shadow,” Adrastos slides his fingers into hair as smooth as black silk, “How fare our friends to the north?”

Every councillor who knew of Bellinor’s identity as more than a concubine in the neighbouring kingdom to the east is dead – of seemingly natural causes; untraceable poisoning; an erotic adventure gone wrong; a terrible accident involving a well and a spooked horse. The aging King is said to be doddering on his throne, a mere day or so from tottering into his death bed.

Adrastos’ own father had suffered from an unfortunate fall three weeks before his dear sister had choked on a stray bone in her soup; Adrastos had been crowned clad in mourning colours. With the care he takes to shine in the eyes of his kingdom, only he and Bellinor know that his hands were already unclean before meeting his lover.

His eastern foes will fall soon enough. Not one to waste time, Adrastos has as such moved his sights elsewhere.

“Queen Fionella is mustering for war,” Bellinor glides the palms of his hands up the length of Adrastos’ thighs as he speaks, his voice as quiet and inexorable as the dagger he wears strapped to his back, “The court is non-existent; five of her key councillors have now come down with plague. Homes are barricaded shut by panicked citizens; no one feels themselves safe. Fionella cries sabotage and points her finger at us, but her armies are busy digging for water and finding only foulness.”

This is admittedly far less subtle than Bellinor deserves, but why linger when Adrastos is eager to employ his lover’s talents elsewhere? He is confident they will find Bellinor plenty more deaths to make into an art form.

“You have done well, my shadow,” Curving his fingers over the assassin’s jaw, Adrastos lowers himself to meet him as Bellinor rises. It is easy to lose himself kissing his lover like that, there in the dark. In such a moment, he wants nothing more.

With a final nip of Bellinor’s lower lip, Adrastos therefore draws back.

“I had best return to the harem lest my absence becomes noteworthy,” Bellinor says with reluctance once they part, “The eunuchs are used to my attending tasks away from the palace, but there continues to be talk.”

“I like it not,” Adrastos would keep Bellinor with him always, except for those who comment on how often he has the dark-haired man and no other concubine in his bed. For as long as he cares to keep up his image as a traditionalist such as his father was, he must pick and choose from his harem and not play favourites. The people will clamour for him to wed else, and Bellinor would be too much in the public eye to continue his fine work.

“All will be well, your majesty,” Bellinor pledges, catching Adrastos’ hand to graze his mouth against the king’s knuckles in an open-lipped kiss, “I will deal with our dissenters in such an area next.”

“I can’t have you solving all my problems for me,” Adrastos strokes his cheek, “I will speak to them myself.”

If these people find themselves expelled from his court however long they may have served his family before him, so be it. Having willed such a fate upon themselves, they should be grateful to him for their lives.

Although upon reflection, Adrastos finds himself uncertain of the necessity of the eunuchs. Mere servants are surely all that is necessary to deliver food and other basic items to his other concubines. What need do they have for pampering?

Curse those who cast aspersions, be they his own citizens or not: Adrastos will rid himself of the entirety of his harem aside from Bellinor if it means he can have his lover by his side every night – or at least during the parts of it where Bellinor’s deadly skills are not required elsewhere.

And if his own councillors complain? Well, Bellinor has had much practice in removing such irritants elsewhere.

“I would like that,” Bellinor draws Adrastos’ index finger into his mouth like a promise, his tongue curling around the tip. “However,” he sucks gently, devastatingly, “Whenever you require it, your majesty, I will be your Death.”

The reminder of his original purpose makes Adrastos catch his breath with arousal, thinking of how that death missed him only to spread to so many others.

“Beautiful as the sharpest knife in my hand,” he agrees, and Bellinor smiles, sweetly vicious, and lowers his head to rest lightly against Adrastos’ knee.

“Your majesty, I am yours.”


End file.
